Far Away Journey
by Cordelia Light
Summary: Hermione gets the opportunity of a lifetime when she is chosen for studies in America. Harry has a secret love for her. She falls in love with someone during her travels. What will happen?
1. Chapter One

A/N: Summary of novel...In her sixth year at Hogwarts, Hermione gets the opportunity of a lifetime when she is chosen to go thousands of miles away from home. In the foreign country, new experiences and people await her as she studies the habits of muggles. Meanwhile, Harry feels tormented in being unable to admit his secret love for her. Bizarre things begin to happen in Hogwarts during Hermione's absence, and in the midst of Harry's mood swings, he senses trouble brewing...so if you like the summary, please read ahead...and please review. I need inspiration to keep myself going! By the way, there are quite a few OC in this fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or Hogwarts or anything else that J.K. Rowling has created.

* * *

**Far Away Journey**Chapter One 

The room had the dawn's first patches of light streaming through the spaces between the window curtains in the dormitory. Hermione squinted through thick eyelashes, feeling the bright light from the cracks between velvet draperies sting her eyes. Yawning, she stretched under the covers before dragging her legs out of bed and into the bathroom. Her hair was a tangled mess. Cascades of chestnut-brown hair tumbled around her bare shoulders as she ran her fingers through her hair. Her slippers squeaked against the tiles of the bathroom as she shuffled toward a sink, fingers rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

There was a girl brushing her teeth over the sink next to Hermione. Her auburn hair was tied back with strips of hair dangling over her freckled cheeks as she leaned over, spitting into the sink. She peered at Hermione out of the corner of her eye. A smile crept into her lips. "Good morning, Hermione," she greeted and wiped her face on a towel.

"Hi, Ginny," answered Hermione as she squeezed out toothpaste.

Ginny wiped her hands on her pajamas. "Aren't you excited about today?"

"What?" Hermione asked through toothpaste-coated lips.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you don't know. You've only been talking about it for the last two weeks."

Suddenly, all that was heard was the clatter of a toothbrush on porcelain. Hermione jerked awake with attention as her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my God," she breathed. "I almost forgot." She looked at Ginny, and felt adrenaline pump through her brain as she said, "My trip to America is today, isn't it?"

"Of course, sleepyhead. I almost thought you lost your mind when you had that blank, what's-going-on look on your face! Seriously, I've been watching you prepare and pack for the last week or so."

Hermione rinsed her toothbrush under the faucet, and gurgled some water in her mouth. "I'm so excited! This is going to be the experience of a lifetime. America." She stuffed her toothbrush and toothpaste into a bag as she headed toward the showers. "I want to learn all about the magical societies there. The culture, the people—both magical and muggles, of course—the schools there, the bookstores, oh yes, I heard that they have quite the collection of books in various libraries…" The sound of water rushing behind the shower curtain drowned out her voice.

* * *

Harry was perched on his bed, knees tucked up to his chest. His face rested over the tops of his knees, troubled and confused, and he gazed outside over the snowy grounds of Hogwarts. Pushing his round, black glasses higher on his nose, he sighed and looked at all the empty beds around the room.

A soft creak of the door opening rippled through the silence. Harry looked backwards, and tried to smile at the tall, red-haired young man leaning under the threshold.

"Still drowning in your _personal_ problems?" the young man inquired, casually pushing back his hair.

"Ron," began Harry, "can't you just leave me alone for a while? I can't think with you here."

"I think I've left you by yourself long enough already. Come on, it's already nine o'clock and you missed breakfast and…you're _still_ lounging in your pajamas."

Silence.

Ron groaned. "You know that you can be such a wimp sometimes? I can't believe that you can battle dementors, dragons, and the dark lord, but you can't get the guts to face the little things in life."

Harry glared at him. "What do you know about the _little_ things in life? Do you really think that what I'm going through right now are the _little_ things in life? I feel like my guts are going to explode any minute. Maybe my mind too." He rubbed the palm of his hand against his forehead.

"Anyways," Ron continued, "you can't avoid this forever. Sooner or later, you're going to have to face it. Just keep that in mind." Putting his thumbs into his pockets, he slid into the hallway.

After a moment of hesitation, Harry called out, "Ron! Come back a minute!"

"What?" The door creaked open.

"I guess you're right. I do have to deal with it; it's obviously not going to be solved by itself."

"Does that mean you're going to get out of bed and stop moping around?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Right," Ron scratched his head. "You better hurry up too. She's leaving in an hour."

"Hermione?"

"Who else is going to America?" Ron hurried out of the room, and Harry watched him leave blankly because he had other things on his mind.

* * *

"HERMIONE!" The high, wavering voice of Professor McGonagall trailed after the young lady thundering down the corridor. "Please, you of all people should know that there's absolutely no running in the corridors." 

Hermione's eyes were shining with energy. She readjusted the bags and suitcases hanging onto her arms and neck. "Yes, I know Professor, but it's already half past nine, and I'm supposed to leave precisely at ten o'clock. I mean, the portkey is scheduled to take off at that time, and you know, I really, really don't want to miss it. It'll just mess everything up!"

"Hermione, you have _thirty_ minutes. What's there to fidget and rush about when you've already finished your packing and breakfast and whatever else you needed to do?" Her lips stretched out in a firm, thin line as she peered down at the girl. The pointed hat on her head made her seem more intimidating than ever.

"Okay," sighed Hermione. "Just relax, just relax."

"Now walk right along, Miss Granger." She smiled briefly. "I wish you a safe trip. I'm sure you will represent our school perfectly."

"I hope so," beamed Hermione, and she paced down the hallway with the mountain of luggage dragging behind her.

It was a Saturday morning and the halls were basically clear of students. Everyone was either outside enjoying the snow or inside the dormitories relaxing within the comforts of cozy beds and couches. The only sounds as Hermione paced toward Dumbledore's office were her own nervous footsteps and the soft murmurs of the paintings on the walls. Her curly hair swished behind her as she walked; an air of elegance seemed to emanate from every move she made, and there was always that tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Halfway down the corridor, she felt a second pair of footsteps walk behind her. She looked back, her lips slightly apart in anticipation. Her body instinctively tensed when she noticed who it was: Harry Potter. Her footsteps gradually slowed down and came to a stop. Feeling exhausted, she dropped all her bags, and attempted to smile.

"Harry," she said.

"Hermione," he replied. He began to run a hand through his uncontrollable, dark hair, but then stopped mid-way, as though he did something wrong. "Umm…I want to tell you something."

Time seemed to be suspended in the air.

Harry felt his face heat up as confusion and timidity took over his mind. For a few seconds, the walls of the corridor seemed to stretch for miles above him and the floor seemed to be quavering. He stumbled as he paced toward Hermione, unable to look directly into her eyes.

"Harry," Hermione said, looking at the floor, "wh-what is it?" Slowly, she lifted her head to look at him.

His hands were shaking. He put them behind his back, hoping that she didn't notice, and endeavored to concentrate on her instead of the windows. "You have a lot of luggage."

She frowned, confused at the absurdity and randomness of the sentence. "Yeah…there are quite a few bags here."

Awkward silence. Hermione stared at her bags, and kept tucking her hair behind her ears even though it was already fine. Harry made unsuccessful attempts at talking by opening his mouth and closing it before uttering a single comprehensible word. His palms grew sweaty and cold.

"Umm…would you like some help with all your suitcases and stuff?" He motioned clumsily at the pile of bags around Hermione's feet.

"That would be great," she grinned. "Next time I go traveling, I should be more careful about what I take with me. I feel as though I'm bringing along my whole house." She chuckled.

Harry hung two bags around one shoulder and carried a suitcase with his other arm, leaving Hermione with only a small handbag and backpack. Hermione felt guilty about the arrangement, and put her hands on his shoulders, beckoning him to let her carry at least one of the bags or suitcases. "Harry," she said, pulling one of the bags from his shoulder, "I'll take this. You're holding way too many things for me."

He snatched the bag from her hands. "Don't worry, it's nothing. I can do this. Really."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Positive?"

"Positive."

"I won't let you change your mind about it later."

"That doesn't matter."

"Are you absolutely, one hundred percent certain that you want to do this for me?"

"Yes, Hermione. I'm absolutely, one hundred percent certain."

"You know, you don't have to lie."

"Why would I lie about carrying _luggage_? It's not as though I'm sacrificing my life for you."

"Well, it _is_ pretty heavy."

"Just be quiet. If we keep arguing, you're going to be late for your trip."

Hermione glanced hopelessly at the portraits on the walls as if they had any words of advice to offer. "Whatever," she finally said. "Don't break your arms." She began treading down the corridor with Harry trailing at her heels who looked ridiculous carrying so many bags, especially since he was so skinny. It was quiet while they walked. Only the sounds of Hermione's boots reverberated down the halls of Hogwarts along with the rustle of canvas bags and suitcases. Hermione's heart rate quickened as she approached closer and closer to Dumbledore's office. _I'm going to leave soon. God, I can't believe this is finally coming true…going to study abroad and meet new people._

Harry labored behind her, although he tried hard to make the work look easy. Perspiration began to bead on his forehead and nose. His muscles felt as though they would rip at any given moment, stretching and tensing every few feet or so that he dragged the luggage. _She'll be leaving soon. How will I say…what will I say to her? Things are getting way too complicated. I should've told her when I had the chance earlier. Okay, Harry…just concentrate, and gather your thoughts together. Think._ He gazed at the way she seemed to glide across the floor. So elegant. So poised. Her hair flowed freely down her back in soft curls and waves, and when the sunlight would shine on it at just the right angle, rich, earthy tones would mix with lighter shades of reddish-brown. He dreamed about her voice, and heard the languid yet crisp tones meld together within his mind continuously. It was so melodic…

"Harry," she waved a hand in front of his eyes. "Hello there?"

"Hmm…yes?" He halted and absently dropped all the bags to the ground, relieved to have at least a moment's rest.

"We're here." She gestured at the entrance to Dumbledore's office. The countenance of an ugly gargoyle leered into their faces, baring a mouth full of sharp teeth.

"Do you know the password?" Harry inquired.

Hermione smiled mysteriously out of the corner of her eye, and then turned to the statue. "Pop tarts." The statue blinked and came to life, leaping away from the two students, revealing a stone stairway spiraling up the castle. "Professor McGonagall told me it yesterday."

"Oh." Harry shifted his weight from leg to leg, feeling oppressed by the need to spit out the words he had been meaning to say for so long. He looked uncomfortably into Hermione's eyes, clandestinely wishing for something to inspire him to speak naturally, wishing that she would reveal some old secret about herself to him. Anything.

Hermione looked at her watch and then pointed at her luggage. She began rather matter-of-factly, "I guess I'll be taking those. I've only got fifteen minutes left before the portkey leaves. Besides, I need to talk privately with Dumbledore before I leave, which will take at least ten minutes." She gathered up all her bags and heaved them into the tiny recess where the spiraling stairs were. Although she tried to act normal, there was a bitterness eating away at her heart, and she found herself unable to raise her head. All of a sudden, a wave of nostalgia washed over her like a cold tide of ocean water. She blinked away the tears surfacing on her eyes, and then rubbed them furiously, pretending that an eyelash fell in. Looking at Harry from under her eyelashes, not wanting him to see her eyes, she whispered, "So…I'll be leaving now." She sighed, and sniffled. "But, I'll be back before you know it. Right?" Feeling brave enough to look up, she smiled weakly at Harry, and gave him a hug, burying her face into his shoulder. He shuddered at her touch, and felt his body flare up with heat. "Oh, Harry, you're such a good friend, you know that? I don't know if you know how much I care about you and Ron and all my other friends at Hogwarts. It-it's so strange how I didn't feel this way until now…I've never felt so trapped by anxiety and excitement and homesickness all at once. I guess I've never really thought about, you know, about exactly how far I'm traveling. I mean, really, America _is_ a long way out there." She breathed in, savoring the familiar smell of what was uniquely Harry. Releasing herself from the hug, she smiled. "But there's nothing to really worry about. I'll be fine. I hope." She looked at the ceiling. "_And_ I'll be back before the year ends."

She backed into the stairwell, and waved at Harry. The stairs began to spiral upwards. Harry blinked, acutely aware that she was leaving, and shouted out, "Hermione, I―"

She was already disappearing behind the wall. "Don't forget to write to me," she called. Within seconds, she completely vanished and the entrance to Dumbledore's office was sealed with a puff of dust. Harry stood there alone, dumbfounded, and said, "I love you." A single tear traced a path from one green eye down his cheek.

* * *

Hermione stepped out from the niche, lugging her bags behind her. Waves of light radiated from the lights within the headmaster's office, almost blinding her eyes because the stairway had been relatively dark. Fawkes, a phoenix, was perched on a golden handle overlooking Dumbledore's desk. The creature peered curiously at Hermione, its eyes shining and carrying the world's reflection within its pupils. 

"Hello, Fawkes," Hermione said, smiling at the beautiful creature. She eyed the dark figure standing in the shadows. The person emerged from the shadows in velvety dark-green robes, and smiled under the half-moon glasses.

"Good morning, Hermione." He paced toward her.

"Good morning, Professor Dumbledore."

"I see you have quite a bounty of luggage with you."

"Yes, Professor. I know it's a lot, but I want to be prepared."

"Of course. I want you to be prepared for this journey, too, and in fact, I've pondered about this moment for a long time. Sending a student alone into a different country is a huge step, even if the student is already a sixth-year and responsible enough to handle many situations. Hogwarts hasn't sent a student abroad since forty years ago."

"Forty years ago?" Hermione gasped. "Oh…you mean something happened between You-Know-Who and a student studying abroad?"

"I'm afraid that is true. I don't mean to scare you. No, my dear, that is not in my intentions, but I do want to take some precautions to ensure your safety."

"Wait, I'm confused. Why are you even starting this program again if it's still dangerous? I think I wouldn't have applied for this if I knew. Oh God, I knew this was going to be a bad decision."

"No, Hermione, it won't be dangerous as long as we are cautious."

"Cautious? I'm sorry, but I don't want to go to America having to worry about someone pulling the Avada Kedavra on me! I want to cancel this trip."

"Hermione, first let me explain something, and this may come as a shock to you."

"Yes?"

"Remember how I told you that you were chosen to study in America?"

"Yes?"

"However, I didn't specify what school at the time. And remember that you agreed that you would be fine with finding out that tidbit of information on the day of your departure?"

"_Yes_?"

"Well, my dear, you _are_ going to America. To study. Of course to study. But. You…um…you will be visiting a muggle school."

"Muggle school?"

"Yes, Hermione. You will be observing the ways of the American muggles, and your assignment is to simply have a great time, learn as much as possible, and come back prepared to write a thesis on your discoveries that will be due the beginning of your seventh year."

"Professor, you can't be serious. I'm already a muggle, well, a muggle with wizarding powers, but…you can't do this to me. I know every _millimeter_ of muggle culture. I could give you a whole speech about this right now if I had the time!"

"But we are talking about _American_ muggles here. I'm sure they have very different lifestyles and a very different culture from the British muggles. Don't complain about your trip, Hermione. I know that you will discover many things, whether or not you already know so much about muggles. The point of this trip is to enlighten you, and let you see new worlds. Tell me, have you ever traveled to America before?"

"No."

"There you go! This will also be a great opportunity for you to learn about America, about this country that you've never ventured into! Besides, this trip will look good on your resumé once you graduate from Hogwarts."

"I guess you're right. But, what about the 'precautions' that you mentioned earlier? I thought this trip was supposed to be dangerous. Well, that's how you made it sound."

"The amazing thing about this trip is that it's not dangerous because you're not going to be functioning within the wizarding world. You'll be within the muggle world, and no one―that is, none of the wizarding people in America, or anywhere else for that matter―will know that you are even existent there."

"Okay…but won't people realize that I'm not at Hogwarts? There's bound to be someone who will find out."

"That's all taken care of. Professor Snape, Professor Flitwick, and Professor McGonagall were all kind enough to work on a charm during the past couple of weeks to create a second Hermione."

"WHAT? Sorry, Professor, for my outburst―"

"It's fine, my dear; it's perfectly natural for you to react in this fashion."

"―but a second _me_?"

"Don't fret so much about this. She's exactly the same as you. Physically, emotionally, intellectually, socially…there's nothing to panic about. She's a perfect imitation of you."

"But, you don't understand! I don't want another me to be walking around in this world. I'll lose my identity! I'll no longer be an _individual_!"

"There will not be two of you in the world forever. She'll be eradicated as soon as you return. You see, there's no need to worry about being in danger, having a twin forever, and anything else of the sort. Everything will be fine. The professors here and I have figured it all out. You are protected in every way."

"But what if someone who knows me sees me in America? I won't be protected then."

"First of all, the chances of anyone knowing you there is extremely minimal. But, we do have to prepare for circumstances like that, which is why you're not going to America as yourself."

"Hold on. I'm not going as myself? What _is_ this? So, there's going to be a replica of myself here, in Hogwarts, and I'm going to go out in the world as a whole different person? This is so messed up. I can already feel my individuality slipping away from me."

"You're still going to be yourself. You just won't _look_ like yourself. The only thing that is changing is your appearance."

"My appearance."

"Exactly, and therefore, you will be completely safe from harm's way."

"Too safe, I think. I mean, what's the point of even going if I'm not myself?"

"Once again, Hermione, you _will_ be yourself; you will still have the essence of your uniqueness, which is your mind. Appearance will be the only factor that's changing. Let me make this clear to you: this is for your safety; the important thing is for you to grow as a person and learn new things to advance yourself in society…and not trouble yourself about how you look."

"Fine. After all, it's not everyday that I get to travel across the Atlantic."

"Good. Now, follow me."

Hermione began gathering her mountain of bags.

"Umm…you can just leave those here."

"Right."

They walked over to the back of his office, even further behind the shelves of astronomical gadgets and magical devices. There was a body-length mirror at the back of the chamber, cold and unforgiving with a steely, unembellished surface. Hermione almost gulped as she stared at it. This was nothing like the Mirror of Erised, which invoked thoughts of curiousity, wonder, and excitement.

"This," Dumbledore began, "is the _Miroir des Illusions_."

"The Mirror of Illusions," whispered Hermione. "I remember reading about this in _Hogwarts, A History_. Didn't the ancient French wizard, Pierre Couteau, create this mirror?"

"Precisely, my dear, and it was eventually passed down to the four founders of Hogwarts." He tapped the side of the mirror. "This mirror is a device that can change the way you look. You can do something as simple as changing yourself from a brunette to a blond. Or, you could go as far as changing your body structure such as altering height, weight, and bone structure, just to name a few. Simply step into the mirror with an image in your mind of what you want to look like. Once inside you'll be in an alternate reality where things appear to be the way you want them to look. It's important not to walk away any further no matter how tempting it may be or you'll be trapped within the mirror forever. You will see your new image looking back at you. Standing in front of that mirror, you can adjust the way you appear in the mirror by simply imagining different appearances. Once finished, simply step into the mirror again, and you'll be back in this reality. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I get the gist of it." She looked warily at Dumbledore, and watched how his eyes seemed to twinkle beneath his glasses. He smiled at her, encouraging her to walk into the mirror. She inhaled deeply, and carefully placed one hand on the surface of the mirror; the steel surface rippled beneath her fingertips, and sent shivers down her spine. Gingerly, she placed her other hand on the icy surface, watching the metal wrinkle under her palms, and pushed forward. Her hands disappeared into the mirror. She looked at herself and then at Dumbledore in horror.

"Go on," he said. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

Gathering more confidence, Hermione walked into the mirror. An exhilarating rush of coolness enveloped over her body as she emerged into the world behind the mirror.

* * *

A/N: Did you like it? Please write a review so I can get a general idea of how people like it. Chapter two has already been completed, but I won't post it until I get feedback. Thanks! 


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: These characters and settings belong to J.K. Rowling, who is a genius, and I'm merely using them for no other reason than toelevate the enjoyment of Harry Potter fans.

**Far Away Journey: Chapter Two**

The hallways seemed gloomier than ever for Harry as he walked toward Gryffindor tower. He felt as though all light was drained from his life. The portraits resumed their usual obnoxious chatter, and paid no attention whatsoever to him; he didn't look at them, either. His back was slumped and he stared at his sneakers as he walked, watching the way that his shoelaces came undone and dragged on the floor.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" he muttered angrily to himself. "I can't do anything right these days. The one girl I actually care about is going away, and I didn't even have the guts…oh, forget it. It's useless now. I can't change the past."

The Fat Lady looked at him, and wrinkled her nose as she dusted off her dress. "Password?"

"Damn it, I can't even remember the stupid password." He rubbed his forehead. "Can't you just let me in? I'm having a really bad day. Actually, a really bad week in general, and…please just let me in. I just want to sleep and rest and sleep."

The Fat Lady frowned. "Come on, rules are rules, and we have them for the safety of the students here. How do I know you're not a serial killer in disguise?"

"That's absurd. There aren't any serial killers running about right now. If you want proof of who I am, just look at my scar!" He folded back the mass of dark hair. "See that? How many people have something like a lightning-shaped scar on their forehead? You can't do that with a disguise. Unless, you're crazy enough to cut…forget it."

The portrait giggled. "Young man, it's entirely possible for someone to do that, and it doesn't even involve the messiness…ugh. Didn't you read _Hogwarts, A History_?"

"Kind of. When the teachers assigned reading to us." He shrugged.

"Well, first of all, read the book. There are even a few pages about _me_. But anyways, there's this thing called the _Miroir des Illusions_, and that mirror can let you be anything your mind imagines."

"Interesting…but, the bottom line is…I'm not a serial killer! I'm Harry Potter. God! Why won't you believe me?" He waved his hands around frantically, and then collapsed onto the floor, burying his face into his hands.

"I wish I can help you. I really do, but rules are rules, and I can't let you in if―"

The portrait opened up. Harry lifted his head up.

"Harry?" Ron asked, poking his head out from the entrance. "What on earth are you doing there? Come on, get up."

The Fat Lady protested against Ron. "Don't let him in! He's a serial killer in disguise!"

"Shut up."

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said as he climbed into Gryffindor tower.

Harry dropped into an armchair, and leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling.

Ron walked over, and crawled into an adjacent armchair. The common room was empty except for them and Crookshanks, whom Hermione had to leave behind since pets weren't allowed on her trip. The mangy cat prowled toward Ron, rubbing its head against his jeans.

"So, how did it go? Did you tell her?"

Harry squirmed uneasily in his seat. "No."

"You didn't tell her? Harry, I mean, this was supposed to be your last chance. I suppose you could write to her about it, but it just wouldn't be the same. You know what I mean?"

"Well, I couldn't do it, so just piss off."

Ron ignored Harry's moodiness. "Anyways, she'll be back before the year finishes; you can always keep that option open. Telling her about how you feel, I mean."

Harry's anger exploded. "You just don't get it, do you? She's doesn't even have an inkling that I like her more than as a friend. You know what she said to me? 'You're such a good friend.'—it can't get clearer than that. A friend. A good friend. _That's_ how she sees me, and that's how she'll always see me!"

"I'm sure―"

"So you see, it was impossible for me to tell her that I love her. How can you tell a girl that you love her when you know that she doesn't love you back in the same way? I was stuck, okay? I felt so _dumb_ standing there, holding her in that pointless hug, listening to her rant about her trip to America."

"Look―"

Harry's green eyes were blazing a passion that Ron rarely saw. It wasn't the kind of fervor he gets into from playing quidditch or the kind of excitement he gets from riding Buckbeak for the first time. This was darker; he wasn't himself at all. "She's probably going to find some laid-back American hottie to have fun with and do who-knows-what. And then she's going to forget all about us. She's not even going to write to me like she promised, and if she does, I'm not going to read her letters. I'll throw them in the fire with the rest of my heart. She'll probably like the States so much that she'll want to live there permanently with her newfound lover. I bet you she's going to get―"

"HARRY, CALM DOWN!" Ron yelled; his cheeks were flushed underneath the spatter of freckles. Harry looked stunned, and looked at Ron as though he suddenly realized that he wasn't alone. "You must get a hold of yourself, and think practically. Logically. I understand what you're thinking, but forget all that. Be positive for once, will you? You've been like this all week. Haven't you had enough? Move on. Life is short; make the most of it. There's so many fish in the ocean. Hermione isn't the only one."

"She's the only one for me," Harry sulked.

"Remember Cho Chang?"

Harry glared at Ron. "Don't even say her name. I've had enough bad experiences with her. All she ever did was cry about her beloved Cedric. It was pitiful, and highly uncomfortable."

"My point is that you were drooling over her for quite a while, and now, see how all that's done and over with. Hermione's the same―"

"HERMIONE IS NOT LIKE CHO!" Harry jumped out of his seat, hair wildly in disarray around his head and eyes bloodshot with fury. He paced in front of the fireplace back and forth.

"_Some_one's in a bad mood."

"I just want to be alone. The last thing I need is to have a red-haired, freckled mosquito buzzing around my ear 24/7."

Ron looked hurt. "If that's really the way you feel." He got up and walked out of Gryffindor tower, slamming the portrait in anger as he left.

Harry watched the door close, and blinked as the Fat Lady shouted, "WILL YOU WATCH THE CANVAS! I'M DELICATE, YOU KNOW!"

* * *

Hermione felt dazed as her eyes roamed around the room. She fell onto her hands and knees, then tilted her face upwards and saw Dumbledore's office scintillating with color and shine. Everything became overly bright. The walls themselves seemed to undulate with swirls of colors splashed everywhere; it was like being sprawled on an artist's palette. Looming above her, the mirror was no longer a sheet of cold steel, but had a frame of wooden edges layered over with multiple colors. She felt the floor vibrate beneath her fingertips as techno music pulsated throughout the chamber. Her head wanted to explode. Everything seemed to be in constant motion.

She pushed herself to her feet, saying, "So this is the alternate reality my imagination has created. Weird."

A creamy voice behind her said, "Look into the mirror."

She swung around toward the voice, and gaped at the person standing before her. There was a man, about in his thirties, garbed in a business suit with a bowler hat and spectacles. Despite his youthful appearance and strange attire, Hermione knew he was Dumbledore. A much younger version of Dumbledore. "Professor Dumbledore, you look so different."

"It's all an illusion based on your imagination," he said. His voice sounded like warm chocolate, deep and inviting. "Inside, I am still an old man."

Shaking her head, Hermione said, "I never knew my thinking is so bizarre. How did I do this?"

"It's all in your subconscious. You don't realize it, but the things you see now are the images being weaved in the back of your mind. Now, look at your reflection."

Hermione saw a young lady with straight brown hair that rested over her shoulders. Thin yet rounded bangs shadowed her forehead over blue-green eyes and dark lashes. The beaver teeth were finally normal-sized. A periwinkle scarf hung casually over a long, woolen coat the color of French vanilla, and below that, a pair of black boots complemented with jeans. The girl in the mirror was taller than she was, and perhaps a little more voluptuous; she used to envy other girls' soft curves in comparison with her straight body structure. Hermione spun around, admiring her new body.

"This is amazing," she breathed. "This is what I've always dreamed of looking like. Do you think I could pass for a model?"

Dumbledore smiled, his youthful eyes sparkling beneath his glasses, and didn't answer her question. "Alright then," he began, clapping his hands together and gesturing at the mirror. "You should go back before we run out of time."

Feeling confident, Hermione grinned at the Headmaster and skipped through the mirror. It was as though a cool breeze slipped beneath her clothing in that brief moment; the sensation made her adrenaline flow through her veins like the currents of a rapid river.

* * *

Ginny was walking out of the girls' dormitory, her red hair piled on top of her head with chopsticks when she saw Harry storming around the empty common room, muttering incomprehensible sentences to himself. His hands were clenched into fists. For a second, he stopped pacing only to slam a fist against the wall, and she heard him say something like, "Get a grip Harry. Breathe. Relax." But just as abruptly as he stood still, he resumed his marching.

Gingerly, she walked down the stairs, and called out, "Harry, is something wrong?"

"Oh, hey Ginny," Harry said, standing still for once. "What's up?" He tried to act as though nothing was amiss.

"Nothing much. There's never anything interesting to do on Saturday mornings." She sighed and sank into a couch, leaning her head against a pillow. "Why were you walking around like that?"

"Oh…you know me. I do it for umm…exercise. For quidditch. Because I need to be in shape for quidditch. And. Um. Yeah." His hands relaxed. He pushed back his hair and leaned against the wall.

"Okay. But you were talking to yourself. And it wasn't friendly talk, either."

"Oh that. I was reviewing for the potions test on Monday. It's more efficient that way. I mean, I get more things done trying to multi-task."

Ginny looked worried. "You know, something just doesn't smell right. There's something wrong; I can feel it. It's okay. You can talk with me about it if it makes you feel any better."

"Don't be worried." Harry walked over and sat next to her. "I'm absolutely fine. Completely. See? I'm smiling."

She giggled, looking into Harry's face. He could always make her smile. Ginny had a crush on Harry for as long as she could remember, but she had her doubts about his feelings toward her. Recently, he also seemed emotionally unstable, which made her worry more. _If only he knew_, she thought to herself. "Oh, Harry," she said, reaching for his hand. Seeing her hand come closer, he withdrew his hands and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Noticing this, Ginny patted his knee briefly instead and continued, "I really haven't a clue what's been going on with you these days. You're just so distant. I don't know." She folded her hands over her lap. "Maybe I'm wrong, but is any of this about Hermione studying in America for the semester?"

Harry tensed up. He felt the suppressed feelings of guilt, anguish, and anger all rush back into his body like a current of electricity. For several seconds, he sat there, not even breathing, and closed his eyes. _Act normally for God's sake! Don't be like this. Just relax and forget it._

"Harry?"

He opened his eyes. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Stop asking me these silly questions. And, I haven't been acting weird lately. Everything is perfect. Smooth sailing all the way. Besides, there's nothing for me to trouble over Hermione. She's going to have a wonderful time, and I can't wait to read her letters." The smile that stretched over his face looked forced and tired. Harry stood up. "I'm sorry, I would love to hang around, but I'm kind of tired right now. It's time for a nap. See you." He trudged upstairs.

"Yeah, see you." Ginny leaned into the soft cushions, and looked up at the ceiling. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes, and an image of a laughing, smiling Harry filled her mind.

* * *

The rhythmic pulsing stopped. Lights ceased to swirl. Colors became rich, earthy tones. Hermione stood with her back facing the mirror. Dumbledore grinned, making the wrinkles dance around his eyes. The familiar white beard and half-moon glasses rested on his face once more. Hermione caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, and relished in her new veneer.

"A job well done, Hermione. Now we can get on with business. _Accio luggage._" Hemione's luggage came flying toward her, and landed directly at her feet. Picking up her things, she followed him into a chamber that she didn't recognize. Unlike the rest of the office, there were no windows, but candles provided light. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all black. A glass table stood in the center with an empty Poland Spring water bottle sitting on it.

"That's _it_? A water bottle?"

"We try to be as inconspicuous as possible, especially in muggle-populated areas, which is precisely where you shall be landing." He glanced at his watch. "We have one minute and thirty-four seconds left. Anything you wish to tell me before leaving?"

"Ummm…exactly where will I be landing?"

"In a discreet alley in Boston, Massachusetts. I believe it's located along Huntington Avenue, but of course you don't know where that is, so it's pointless for me to go on about it. Oh yes. There will be someone picking you up. Don't worry about it; everything is taken care of."

"Okay, thank you for everything Professor Dumbledore."

"Always a pleasure. You are a wonderful student, and I am positive that you will excel in America as much as you do in Hogwarts. I wish you a safe journey. Make wise decisions." He smiled, and looked at his watch. "Now, we have exactly twenty seconds left, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen—I want you to hold on to the water bottle, now—twelve, eleven, ten—don't forget your bags—seven, six, five, four, three, two, one!"

_Whoosh. _She felt herself jerked forward, and suddenly Dumbledore's office disappeared. It felt as though there was a hook pulling her by the navel. All she heard was the wind whipping past her ears and the beating of her frantic heart. A rainbow of colors whirled past her eyes. It all ended as quickly as everything had turned into a blur; she felt something hard beneath her feet. Something like cement, wood, or a paved road. As she looked up, her hand automatically loosened its hold against the water bottle, and it clattered on the ground. She found herself in an alley, next to dumpsters, trash bags, and mountains of cardboard boxes. Brick walls loomed around her, green with mold. She breathed in the stale smell of city air.

A slender man in his twenties walked toward her with an outstretched hand. Short, light-brown hair framed a face with brown eyes and rosy cheeks. He had a welcoming grin on his face. "You must be Miss Hermione Granger, from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

* * *

A/N: Please review if you have anything to say...anything at all! I just want to know that there's actually people _reading_ this story or I'll feel that it's useless togo on writing, and you really don't want that to happen. 


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I'm not makingmoney off of the original creations of J.K. Rowling! I swear!

**Far Away Journey: Chapter Three**

The rich, open tones of his American accent rolled into the air.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "And you?" She had to look up at the tall man, now that he was standing before her.

"William Green," he said, giving her a firm handshake. "I'm your guide and your guardian and whatever else…let's see…your friendly hand for your stay here. Well, not in this _alley_ of course, but you know what I mean."

"Nice to meet you."

"Now, first things first. We need to get out of this lousy place. It's so dirty—just disgusting—but nevertheless, a great place where muggles won't see you pop out of nowhere. Imagine how crazy it would be if they saw!" He chuckled and then turned serious. "Never-mind, I shouldn't be saying things like that. It's not really funny; it'd be a disaster if it happened." He looked at Hermione's luggage, his eyes widening at the redundant bags and suitcases. The young witch looked guiltily at him.

"It's my luggage, isn't it?"

"Well, not really…no, actually yes, crap, that's a lot of bags you have there. Four in all, I think. I'm going to have to carry some of them for you. You'll get tendonitis if you lug all that around by yourself. Here, I'll take these two duffle bags, and you take that backpack there and that suitcase."

Hermione's face relaxed, as though the boulder that had been weighing down on her suddenly floated away. "Thank you, Mr. Green, you are so kind. I don't know what to say." She slung the backpack over her shoulders.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything else. I'm just doing my job. By the way, you don't need to call me Mr. Green; it makes me feel like there's a social barrier between us. Call me Will." Holding the suitcase in one hand and the duffle bag in the other, he began to walk briskly out of the alley. "Follow me."

Hermione pulled the wheeled suitcase. She followed him onto a street busy with traffic and bright streetlights. Sunlight showered like gold onto them even though the air itself was frigid, and winds whipped into their faces despite coats and scarves.

"Welcome to Boston," said Will; his eyes were squinting in the sunlight. "Keep up with me, okay? This is a big city, a big _muggle_ city, and I don't want you getting lost. If you feel tired, please tell me. We'll take a break if we need to."

"You don't need to worry about me getting lost just because this is a muggle city. I'm muggle-born. I was born and raised in muggle cities."

"You're muggle-born? Now _that's_ something new to me. The professors at Hogwarts didn't tell me about you being muggle-born. Well, at least we don't need to worry about having you running past green streetlights or into cars and whatnot." Will walked in long strides, which after several minutes became difficult for Hermione to keep up, who was about a head shorter than him and didn't have legs as long as his. The freezing weather didn't help either. She could barely feel her face, her ears, or her fingers, even though she had gloves on. "Will," she called out, panting and bending over her suitcase, "can you wait for a bit?"

"You must be really tired." He scanned the area, and saw a café nearby. "Want to go to Staubucks?"

"Sounds great."

With the wind biting at their heels, the two of them hurried into Starbucks, and were swept over with billows of warm air upon entering. Rich aromas of coffee wafted in the air. People sat at small tables, hands clutching steaming cups, reading, or gazing serenely at their laptops while their fingers danced over the keyboards. Hermione found a free table and plopped into the chair without even bothering to take off the backpack.

Setting down the bags, Will asked, "Would you like a cup of coffee? What kind?"

"Sure, I'd like to have a French roast," she began excitedly, and then a shadow crept into her eyes. "No wait. I can't. I have no way of paying for it. I haven't got any American currency. _Fantastic_. Of all the things I decided pack, the most important thing is what I forget to bring."

"Don't worry. Just chill, okay? I've got money here. It's on me." He began pulling out a wad of dollar bills from his wallet, and dashed to the cashier counter before Hermione could protest any more.

While Hermione looked out of the window, admiring the bustle of city-life, Will paced toward her with two cups of coffee in his hands. Fire alarms seemed to go off in Hermione's brain as she watched the caffeine-filled beverage smoke with steam. She was exhausted. The coffee drink was a miracle.

"Thanks," she said, testing the coffee, and feeling the liquid scald her tongue. She put the drink down, wrapping her frozen fingers around the cup.

"No problem."

"So, what am I supposed to do around here?"

"What did the Headmaster tell you to do?"

"He was kind of vague about it all. I guess he just wants me to observe American muggle culture, and when I get back, I'm supposed to write a paper about my findings. Not that there's much to find." She sipped on her coffee.

"Well, that much I can understand. Jeez, you might even be able to ace this paper even if you didn't come here to observe and stuff. For God's sake, you're muggle-born!"

She chuckled. "Yeah, I know. However, I still think that taking this educational offer is good in a way. American muggles are different from the British muggles, so it's not like I'm learning nothing new."

The two of them drank their coffee silently. Waves of energy started to radiate into Hermione's body as she finished the last few drops of the drink. She felt her cheeks flaming with the coffee's heat.

"Finished?" her guardian inquired. "I'll take your cup." He tossed his cup into the trash.

"It's okay. I can throw it out myself." She tossed it away, grabbed her suitcase, and followed Will out of the café.

* * *

_The hallways were dark and gloomy. Deatheaters surrounded every corner, their hooded faces concealed, holding lighted wands. Harry was hiding under his Invisibility Cloak behind the statue of a humpbacked hag. He tried to suppress his ragged breathing for he was sure that they could hear him. He smothered his trembling lips with his hands, forcing himself to breath through his nose. _

_A tall man was holding a person by the hair, dragging the victim like an animal toward the statue. Harry's eyes widened. Screams from the victim echoed through the corridors, even making the sleeping pictures cringe. It was a female scream. _

_"_Lumos_," the man said, and waved his glowing wand in front of the woman's face. Her expression was ripped with pain and terror. Tears were streaming down her cheeks._

_Harry peered at the scene unfolding before him. "Hermione," he whispered, immediately recognizing her visage despite the woeful façade. His hands clenched into fists, and in a rage, he flung off the cloak with his wand aimed at the man. "Let her go! _expel_—"_

_Before Harry could finish his spell, he found his own wand zooming out of his hand. "My wand…"_

_The man's face wasn't visible underneath his hood, but Harry knew the person was laughing. "And why, if it isn't the Boy Who Lived?" In a matter of seconds, many other Deatheaters ran into the scene, their glowing wands shining in the dark like fireflies. "Say goodbye to your little friend, Harry Potter! _Avada Kedavra_!"_

"_NOOOO! HERMIONE!" He bounded forward as he saw the green light explode from the tip of the man's wand. _

Harry jerked up in bed, and his eyes snapped open. He was breathing heavily as though there wasn't enough air in the room. A sheen of perspiration layered over his face. His clothes were sticking to his body, causing him to feel intensely claustrophobic in the tangled mess between his blankets.

"Oh my God," his whispered, his hands traveling to his face to wipe away the sweat. He sat there with his face in his hands, feeling as though his heart wanted to jump out of his ribcage. "It was just a dream. Nothing more than a nightmare. Calm down. Calm down. Breathe."

Pushing away the covers, he climbed out of bed, and threw off his damp clothes, putting on fresh ones instead. He walked to his dresser, and pulled out the photo album of his deceased parents. Watching his parents smile and wave at him in the first picture, he felt tears start to well up in his eyes. "Mom, Dad, what am I supposed to do?"

The door creaked open, and Dean's head poked in. "What're you doing, Harry?"

"Nothing," Harry replied, quickly stuffing the photo album back into the drawers. "I just woke up."

"Great, because boy do I have news to tell you!" Dean ran over, and plopped onto Harry's bed. His face was glistening with excitement.

"What is it?"

"There's a new girl here. A _girl_. A sixth year!"

"Wait, I didn't know that we get students in the middle of the year!" Harry exclaimed, trying too hard to act as though there wasn't a stain in his life. "Dumbledore didn't even announce this at yesterday's dinner, or the dinner before yesterday for that matter."

"Apparently, it was supposed to be some big surprise. I heard some people say that she's the exchange student for Hermione. I just saw her a few minutes ago in our common room. She's in Gryffindor! Can you believe our luck?"

"I didn't know that Hermione is in a student exchange program," Harry mused. "I mean, I _know_ that she's off in America, but I didn't know that someone's coming to _replace_ her."

"But, if you think about it, this really isn't an exchange program, because Hermione is still here," Dean contradicted.

"Still here? What do you mean? She's in America." Harry felt his heart flutter.

"Oh, you weren't there at the meeting this morning. Professor McGonagall told all the Gryffindors that a _fake_ Hermione has been created. She's already wandering around Hogwarts as we speak. The fake Hermione, I mean."

"You're kidding." Harry couldn't believe his ears.

Dean waved his hands wildly. "It's true! Go ask Professor McGonagall if you want."

"But why create a second Hermione?"

"Okay, Harry, before we talk about this any more, I have to make one thing clear."

"What?"

"Only the people from _Gryffindor_ know that this new Hermione is fake. Nobody else knows, and you can't go around telling people. Get it? This is not only for Hermione's safety, but for Hogwart's safety." Dean's face was serious.

"Okay, I promise I won't go around blabbing it to everyone. But doesn't everyone at this school already know that she's in America? These people aren't stupid; they'll know something is fishy when they see the Hermione look-alike here."

"You don't need to ask that." Dean scoffed. "It's all taken care of. There's an explanation for everything."

"What's the explanation?"

"I'm just guessing from common sense," Dean began, "but I think they'll get convinced that she couldn't bring herself to go to America, and decided in the end to stay with all her friends at Hogwarts."

"Okay," Harry muttered skeptically. "But _why_ did they create a second Hermione?"

"Dumbledore doesn't want anyone knowing that an innocent, Hogwarts witch is off on her own thousands of miles away from here. It's really dangerous. That's why we have another Hermione created. To fool the bad guys."

"I see. It's all starting to make sense." Harry rubbed his forehead, pondering about this second Hermione, and wondering if she's as authentic as the real one. Despite his curiosity, he didn't want to have anything to do with this fake Hermione, and yet, a part of him wanted to see her and see exactly how alike she is to the real person.

"Anyway," Dean continued, "this new girl is awesome. She's from the States. Hey, why don't I introduce you to her?"

"Ummm…"

"Come on, Harry, it'll be fun! I know you want to meet her." Dean's voice was persuasively annoying.

"Fine," Harry finally said. "I'll go meet her."

"Great! I knew you were going to be interested. Heck, who wouldn't?"

Dean pushed Harry off his bed, and began thundering down the stairs. Harry paced at a slower rate behind, not feeling all that interested about the new girl.

Dean glared at the snail trailing behind his footsteps. "Come _on_, Harry! Get your butt moving!"

Harry in response ran a few steps to catch up with Dean, and then pushed his glasses higher on his nose. Walking down the stairs to the common room, Dean scanned the room for traces of the new girl.

Dean shook Harry's shoulder. "There she is," he whispered. "She's sitting by herself on that couch there. Alone! This is the perfect opportunity! Hurry up!"

Harry looked at the girl as he ambled down the stairs. She looked like she was half Asian and half of some Western kin. There was smooth, dark brown hair rippling over her shoulders, framing a pale, oval face with large eyes and tiny lips. Not yet dressed in the school uniform, she lounged over the sofa, drowning in cushions, reading a book. Harry looked briefly at the cover of her book where there was an image of a man and a woman dressed in togas passionately kissing each other. Romance book.

"Hey," Dean greeted, a goofy smile spreading across his face.

She looked up, and a smile began to form itself over rosy lips. "Hey Dean," she said quietly. She looked over at Harry, and her lips parted as though she wanted to say something, but couldn't.

"I don't think you've met my friend here," Dean began. "This is Harry Potter. Harry, meet Natalie Schulminsky."

"Hey," they both said at the same time.

Dean pulled down Harry into a chair, forcing him to sit. "You know what, Harry," Dean began, giving him a private wink, "I forgot that I have some unfinished business to do in my room. Homework and stuff. I've got to go. Bye Natalie." He left swiftly, not even allowing Harry time to stop him. Harry squirmed in his seat.

Natalie's eyes glowed every second she looked at Harry, making him feel extremely vulnerable to an anticipated 'fan-attack'. Seconds flew by. His hands fidgeted over his lap as his smiled nervously at the young lady. _God, she's pretty,_ Harry thought unconsciously before mentally slapping himself. _Stop thinking about that. Come on, a little control here…remember that Hermione is the love of your life?_ He found himself enthralled by her lips; they had the ability to bend ever so slightly around the corners in a timid yet alluring manner.

Wrapping a wisp of her hair around her forefinger, she leaned forward and inquired, "Are you really _the_ Harry Potter?"

Harry could already feel the rush coming. It was the rush of an obsessed boy-who-lived-fan beginning the question that has now become a mere cliché in Harry's mind. This small question will then lead to numerous other ones about his life, his interests, his adventures, whether or not he's dating someone, whether or not he'd be interesting in dating if not currently dating…

He braced himself, mentally crossing his fingers.

"Yes," he replied, trying hard to seem as normal as possible.

She gasped and looked as though she was ready to faint as she lightly covered her mouth with her fingers. "OH MY GOD!" she shrieked. "NO WAY!" Her eyes were glued to Harry's forehead. _Now comes the part where she'll throw herself over me,_ Harry thought disgustedly. "I think I must be dreaming." A dazed expression fogged up her face.

"This is real," Harry said almost impatiently.

"You're right," she began thoughtfully, "I'm perfectly awake, and this is life…this is real…this is _now_. Okay, so I want to know all about you, well, I already know _so_ much about you already, but you never know…I could learn something new. I _can't_ believe I'm actually talking to you! Oh my God, this is like so awesome. Wait till I tell all my friends back in my hometown that I actually met you. They'll be totally jealous. You know, everyone is so extremely in love with you…at least all my friends back at home are. So, you straight?"

Harry blinked. "Excuse me?"

The girl laughed flirtatiously, waving a hand in front of her face. "You don't have to pull _that_ one on me."

"Wait, I'm a little lost. What do you mean? Pull _what_?"

She put her book down, and looked at Harry from under thick layers of mascara. Tilting her head up with one hand buried in her hair, she giggled some more, making Harry have second thoughts about her: _Never judge a person by their looks, no matter how beautiful._ "Ok, so _now_ you're trying to play dumb. I'm totally in guys who try to be cute by acting like they don't know what's going on when they know _per_fectly well how everything's going."

"Look, you don't seem to understand. I just wanted to ask you―"

Her eyes danced with excitement. "You wanted to ask me out? What? You like me? Come on. Admit it. I think we have something special cooking here."

"That's not what I wanted to say," Harry began weakly.

Natalie cut in, not letting him say anything more. Her voice was hurt. "You mean…you don't like me?" Suddenly, she took in a sharp breath, and her eyes seemed twice as large as before. A new revelation came over her. "_No_…don't say you're gay."

_Girls can be so stupid,_ Harry thought angrily. _Wait, not all girls…just ones like her._ "No, I'm not gay."

"You're not? Then do you still want to go out?"

He felt himself tense, and sighed, "I never said I wanted to go out with you."

"You did! You did!" She insisted. "You said exactly, 'I just wanted to ask you' and I automatically knew what you were thinking! You see? You are my soul mate. I know how you think. We're like this." She laced her fingers over each other, and thrust her hands in front of his face. He winced at the sudden movement, and fell back against his chair in emotional and mental exhaustion.

It was completely hopeless. The new girl turned out to be an I-love-Harry-freak, making Harry's already terrible week considerably worse. He sat back in the armchair, feeling himself sinking into the soft cushions as though he were melting. Averting his eyes toward the ceiling, he stared straight up for several seconds, scarcely listening to the ramblings of Natalie.

"Are you listening, Harry?" Her eyes searched deep into Harry's eyes, watching the way the lights reflected off the green. Without realizing it, Natalie's lower jaw began to slide down, and she found herself gaping unabashedly at his face. Embarrassed, she immediately looked at the wall behind Harry, then at the floor, then the ceiling, and finally, her hands.

The ceiling above seemed to spiral upwards like the inside of a seashell as Harry rested his head against the top of his armchair. It was a never-ending whirlpool of creamy plaster in a blend of golden and ivory hues. _This is my life now_._ I'm waiting for myself to turn into this ceiling; I'm waiting to get sucked into a twister of life and fate._ Slowly, he removed his gaze from Natalie's perpetually moving mouth. Her words flew past his ears like the wind, leaving him in confusion. He found himself saying, "Yes," after everything sentence she uttered, and had no idea what was going on. Hermione's face flashed incessantly into his mind with ghostly echoes of her voice. His lips curled into a small smile as he stared blankly into space, appearing to see nothing, yet he was remembering childhood memories. Memories shared with Hermione. Inadvertently, he fingered the bridge of his glasses, the very spot where the metal had been broken and restored countless times.

In the background, they heard the Fat Lady holler something about a serial killer running about in Hogwarts. Her shrieks were muffled by the soft thud of the closing door. Trying to ignore everything, Harry looked down at his lap, his fingers still lingering over the bridge of his nose. Behind him, he heard shoes clicking slowly across the marble floor, and silence suddenly stretched throughout the chamber. A gasp escaped from Natalie's lips. Harry, sensing that something wasn't right, looked up at Natalie, watching the stricken expression on her face melt to that of curiosity.

"Natalie? You okay?"

"Ummm…" she mouthed. Her eyes were as glassy as a porcelain doll.

Again, the clicking of shoes echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls and into the recesses of the caved ceiling, until it blended into the plush of the carpet. Harry felt the presence of the person approach behind him, though he was too submerged in his own gloom to care. Then, he felt the brush of someone's fingertips against his shoulder.

His heart jumped a beat.

His body tensed.

"Hi, Harry," the person said.

* * *

A/N: I'll post chapter four if I get more reviews! I know you're all dying to find out what's going to happen. Come on, you know you want to write one... 


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